Page 13

It was slow-moving, carrying out the cold box full of ice lollies, which would have been heavy on a good day.

But today Temperance was also wearing a dress that weighed the same as a small pony.

It took her a good fifteen minutes to get from the kitchen back to The Witch’s Nose porch, even when she was subtly using her powers to pick up a little of the heavy petticoats when she was sure she couldn’t be seen.

She was doubly glad she’d asked Stevie to take off the red satin belt earlier – that was not complication she needed in Mary Poppins mode.

Stevie had made Temperance swear to put it back on before the party started though, because it would be an ‘affront to accessories everywhere’ if she didn’t perfect her look.

The pillowy comfort of the love wrapped up in the dress had Temperance feeling so confident and centred that entertaining a rabble of sugar-fuelled kids had been a breeze today. And she’d only had a slight wobble when she saw Abel coming to join them.

It’s lucky I don’t care what I look like in front of him , Temperance thought to herself. Because my face is probably beetroot right now and my eyeliner is possibly somewhere near my ears. But I don’t care. So that’s handy.

As she nudged open the heavy pub door with her bum and swung the box around through it, her breath caught in her throat.

Abel lay on the green, spread-eagle, face down.

The kids were all stood around the edge of the grass, as if terrified to go near him.

They just stared, silently. None of the parents relaxing nearby were moving either.

Oh my god. It’s happened. The doom . It found him – I’m too late.

Temperance could feel her heart beat in her ears. She let the cold box drop to the floor with an almighty thud, hauled up her skirts as best as she could and sprinted towards the green.

No, no! I didn’t get a chance . . . I was going to fix this . . . I can’t lose him again!

Her brain was tumbling through what she knew of CPR, if there might be a doctor on holiday nearby, if you could call 999 and say ‘I think some magic has taken out my first love – help!’

It can’t end like this. It can’t .

As she raced back past one of the kids, she heard a squeaky voice say, ‘Not fair! He didn’t say go yet!’

‘WHO disturbs my SLUMBER?!’ Abel raised his head and yelled, jumping up to his feet with unbelievable agility for someone so tall and who Temperance could have sworn was dead three seconds ago.

She stopped in her tracks, treading on the hem of the dress and nearly losing her balance.

Abel held out his finger, pointing at the boy who’d complained as Temperance rushed in front of him.

‘The dragon will eat this one first! Then the rest! Arrgggghhhhh!’

There was a chorus of happy squealing as the children starting running in all directions, back and forth over the grass.

Abel flapped his long arms and took chase after them.

When he caught Temperance’s eye his cheeks coloured and he hesitated for a moment.

But she shrugged and waved her hand at her outfit, as if to say there was no shame in being ridiculous for a tiny audience, so off he roared.

Slowly, her heart rate dropped to something like normal and she tried to discreetly rub away the sweat that had gathered between her cleavage, under the dress’s tight corset.

Once all the kids had been caught with a soft tag to the top of the head and had had their chance to do a noisy, over-the- top death scene, Temperance shouted, ‘Time for a snack. Any zombies here that like ice pops?’

She opened up the cool box to a pile of almost-neon coloured frozen treats.

‘I know you’ll have lime,’ Temperance said to an out-of-breath Abel, passing up the tube of frozen green slush, the memory of his favourite flavour so deeply ingrained in her that she wasn’t even conscious she’d accessed it.

It was simply a fact of nature: the tides came and went, the sun sometime shone and Abel Gulliver loved lime. ‘Martha, what would you like, lovely?’

‘Strawberry, please, Princess.’

Standing next to her as she crouched down to kid-level, Abel could see Temperance’s neck flush red just a little.

He could also see the way, from where he stood, that dress was forcing her figure into an even more accentuated hourglass and he tore his eyes away to study the grass, the kerb, the bus stop. Anything else.

‘Can you open it? No? These things are always such a blood—such a fiddle, I should have got some scissors from the pub.’

‘Let me.’ Abel raised his eyebrows, glad of a distraction, and gently took the ice pop from Martha and snapped it in two. ‘There you go.’

Martha’s eyes went wide, as if she’d witnessed some real fairy magic that she shouldn’t have.

Temperance laughed. ‘How did I not know that? God, the hours of my life I must have wasted trying to tear my way into them and I could have just . . .’ she picked up a cola-flavoured one and cracked it open, ‘boom! Do you like cola, Tristan? Here you go. Strawberry, Jenny?’ She snapped another and passed it over.

‘Oh my god, so satisfying. I feel like Lara Croft running a Mr Whippy.’

Abel burst out into a heavy, deep laugh.

Temperance couldn’t help but drink in the noise – the first time she’d heard her old best friend properly laugh in a very, very long time.

It caught her so off guard that she laughed too and then rushed to change the subject.

‘Parents! We’re ready to say goodbye to our fairy apprentices if you’d like to come and get them. ’

The children were collected, their water bottles and abandoned cardigans scooped up, and the little mayhem makers were reluctantly led off to their beds.

Somehow, standing on the now empty green with Abel felt a lot stranger than being with him and a bunch of five-year-olds.

Temperance looked at him, but his eyes were on the horizon, his jaw clenched.

It was on the tip of her tongue just to blurt out, ‘Why did you go? Why couldn’t you have at least talked to me first?

’ And her heart seemed to be rallying with confidence, like the dress was nudging her to do it, to get answers, to get some long-overdue closure.

Maybe the tense Abel that turned up yesterday had just been in a bad mood, weighed down with worry for Margie?

Maybe he was coming back to himself, here at home, with people that really knew him?

Abel’s head dipped, then he turned to her. ‘Tee, I . . .’ He held his bottom lip between his teeth. ‘Being on the green like this, like when we were . . .’ he frowned, his words tailing off.

‘Yes?’ Temperance’s heart was screaming at her now to take charge. Ask him! This is the old Abel, can’t you see? Ask him, quick!

His eyes held hers, those green eyes flecked with grey that she would know anywhere. Abel seemed to almost frown in concentration for a moment. ‘I sometimes think . . . I mean, if I could . . .’

Temperance nodded frantically. A sudden breeze passed over her bare shoulders.

But she wasn’t aware of the goosepimples on her arms, of how ridiculous she looked in a full wedding gown in the middle of East Prawle.

She didn’t even know she was holding her breath: all she could focus on were the words coming out of Abel’s mouth.

He was going to explain it all: the sudden vanishing act, the hostile moods. He had to.

‘The green,’ he cleared his throat suddenly, ‘is for everyone. We shouldn’t leave it a mess. I’ll help you with this stuff.’ He nodded over to the rainbow parachute the kids had been using earlier, still unfurled and draped over a bench.

Her mouth opened and closed uselessly as it felt like a stone was weighing her heart down to the pit of her stomach. She shook her head and found some sort of shred of composure. ‘Right. Sure.’

Temperance felt dizzy from such a U-turn between them and numbly picked up one edge of the parachute, rolling it along the grass as Abel did the same from the opposite edge.

It had really felt like something was opening up between them, just then.

But clearly, yesterday wasn’t a blip. Clearly, he was someone totally different now.

Someone who lectured others on being a public nuisance.

Who had no lasting affection for the places or people that had made up his childhood.

It was like Abel was photoshopping himself out of all her memories, leaving just a sad, blank smudge in Temperance’s heart where the thought of him should have been.

Temperance kept her head down, scrunching up the canvas under her fingers, concentrating on this thankfully soulless fabric and not all the tangled threads between her and Abel. Maybe, sometimes things were just too messy. Sometimes you never get back to the knot at the heart of it all.

Her knuckles brushed against Abel’s as they reached the middle together. His skin was warm, his hands broader than she remembered. She heard him draw in a breath.

‘Sorry.’ He pulled back, standing up tall and checking his watch.

Temperance knew for certain that she had to say goodbye to the playful Abel of the olden days. He’d vanished into the air again like a popped bubble. ‘I should see if Gran needs me. Not long till kick off. You’re done here, yeah?’

She nodded, her throat too constricted with sadness to say anything at any rate.

So much for the good fairy.